


Decimating the Flock

by mothermachinegun



Series: Fratstuck [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Humanstuck, M/M, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothermachinegun/pseuds/mothermachinegun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s Damara. You fucks aren’t funny. Come get these fucking flamingos off of the lawn right now or we’re going to kill you all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decimating the Flock

“This is Kankri’s voicemail. I’m unable to take your call, so please leave a message after the tone.”

“It’s Damara. You fucks aren’t funny. Come get these fucking flamingos off of the lawn right now or we’re going to kill you all.”

You were less than thrilled with your boyfriend a week later.

Rather, you were all less than thrilled with all of your bigs.

Somebody, you weren’t sure who, had decided to put all of the new pledges’ phone numbers on the flamingo cards. So, when somebody called to have the flamingo removed from their lawn, it was either you, Mituna, Jake, or Rufioh that went out to go and retrieve it.

This was less than ideal.

Especially because Mituna didn’t drive, you didn’t have a car, and Jake and Rufioh actually had stuff to do, like sports, so more often than not, Jake left you the keys to his Jeep and you and Mituna had to go and drag your sorry asses out to wherever the flamingo had wound up.

But not today. You’d gotten lucky today. Cronus had given you a day off, that is to say, a day off to spend in bed with him. That was the thing. You could stop dealing with flamingos for a bit or you could spend the night with him this weekend. That was literally the whole deal.

And you were okay with that because you were getting so. Fucking sick. Of these flamingos.

You were content to figure out that ‘spending the night in bed’ with Cronus on this particular occasion meant curling up on his room to watch Grease on his laptop. It was his favorite movie, you liked it just fine but preferred something with a little more class to it.

You had your head resting on his chest. He was wearing just a simple a-line tanktop and his boxer shorts, you were wearing his t-shirt. He’d given it to you earlier that week, or, rather, you’d thrown it on and claimed it yours. He didn’t seem to mind, rather, he made no secret of the fact that he liked it.

The exact words he used were, you think, “Oh my god, you look so fucking hot in my shirt, I just want to throw you down and make you scream.”

Not sexy, you thought, but then again, you weren’t in the mood when he said it.

You walked your fingers up and down the curve of his stomach. He likes it when you touch it, feeling the gentle protrusion of each ab muscle under the cotton knit, the gentle dip of his navel, the prominence of his cut lines as you brush your thumb down one hip. You worship his body quietly to yourself, feeling each little groove and impression of his torso.

He has an arm around your shoulders, and you lay awkwardly against his bicep and try to not cut off the blood flow completely, but it’s a daunting task. You may as well just forget about it.

Your phone blinks, he sighs and passes it over.

“This is your fault, you know.” You remind him quietly, taking it and looking at the notification. A new voicemail, one from Damara, which you listen to and sigh, deleting it shortly after before passing the phone back over so he can put it on the nightstand. “Damara again. Will you guys stop putting them in the sorority’s front yard please?”

“No way. Her reaction’s hilarious.”

“Oh, come on. Is it really necessary?” You settle back down on top of him. He rolls a little bit to face you, and you prop yourself on one arm. The sheets feel cool and you can sense the warmth radiating from his body, the window slightly ajar to bring in the November breeze. It’s comfortable feeling, your legs tangled together.

This week you had the opportunity to see Cronus completely naked. He asked you to take a shower with him, which, honestly, was as innocent as it got. He washed your hair, gave you damp kisses that echoed in the hyper-ambience of the shower.

You learned something about him. He shaves his body hair. Or, rather, he gets it waxed, something he insists is necessary for minimizing swim time. The only things he keep natural is his head and his, well. Crotch.

You’d feel embarrassed to be hairier than your hunky boyfriend, but thankfully, you’re fairly light and sparse all over, something you attribute to having been a woman in a past life. Cronus had confirmed your suspicion that he was Italian, and, if left to grow natural, he’d be a pretty fuzzy dude.

“Of course it’s necessary, babydoll.” Cronus says, touching your face familiarly with his free hand. He holds your chin and brings you in for a kiss, you accept it gratefully. Once he’s pulled away, he says, “She chooses to call at 11:30 at night, too, and that’s her fault.”

“Still… you guys DID put ten pink flamingos all over their yard.”

“Not our problem.”

“How-” He kisses you again, “-is that-” another kiss, “-not-” once more, “-our problem?”

“It’s just not,” Cronus soothes, trailing his lips down your cheek, jaw, and up behind your ear. You shiver, tangling your legs with his and squirming a little bit, feeling pleasantly tickled by the sensation of him breathing on your neck.

“I thought we were watching movies.”

“Oh, doll, you didn’t think you were gonna miss out on getting a little action, did you?”

“Cronus, you amaze me. You truly do. Every other boyfriend asks to have sex, you’re the only one in the world that assumes we’re going to have sex.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me and tell me you weren’t expecting it. Did you manscape for me today?” You gasp as Cronus’s hand darts under the blankets, unable to help a shocked yelp as he abruptly feels you up. “You did. Aw, you’re the best.”

“Cronus!” You blush heavily, swatting his hand away. Your crotch burns with the absence of his hand, you sigh. Manscaping. It’s a practice you’ve been committed to since highschool, when you found that wiry dark hair below your belt wasn’t your ideal look. Plus, it itched. “That’s embarrassing. You can’t just grab me like that, it’s… it takes me by surprise!”

“I love it when you’re all smooth down there for me though,” Cronus purrs, “Makes me just wanna kinda…”

And then the smug prick disappears under the blankets and you feel his hands prowling down your front, a muffled laugh from under the blanket as he mouths at your hip. You tense, trying to tug him back up by his hair. “Cronus, get up here, what do you think you’re doing? I’m- mildly triggered by that-”

“Again with the triggerin’ stuff?” His voice is still muffled, he licks the curve of the inside of your hip and starts to shimmy your boxer shorts down. You groan in exasperation, yet twitch, feeling his breath hot against your groin. Yeah. Cronus wants to get busy, so you’re getting some tonight. “Easy, there, sugar. I just want a taste.”

“Oh my god. You have the dirtiest mouth.”

“I do not!” The covers tent somewhat and you see him peering up at you from the darkness of the blanket hovel, looking less than pleased with your accusation. “I rarely swear unless we’re doing the sex.”

“Doing the sex-”

“Now shut up and lemme.”

The blankets fall back down, he curls around your lower half and starts to massage your cock to life, you sigh breathlessly and lean your head back against the pillow, pulling his shirt up around your nose and taking a deep smell of it. It smells like him, his natural scent and his deodorant and the aftershave he tends to use. It’s a fucking attractive combo, and you inhale it with a wanton little mewl as his tongue probes your taint.

He does everything but actually suck you off.

You try to resist the urge to punch his head but you’re doubled over in pleasure as you actually bite the pillow, embarrassed and more than a little turned on. He goes down on you like a starved dog, sweeping his tongue over and around the base of your cock. You can feel his cheek brushing against the smoothish surface of your skin, can feel his breath hitting you with every exhale.

“Oh my god. Cronus, oh my god dammit-” Your phone’s ringing again. You just ignore it, seeing as Cronus isn’t letting you move from your spot. You feel his hands resting at your hips, where he pins you to the bed, and goddamn him, he’s going at you like a fucking Saint Bernard, practically bathing you.

“Don’t get it.” You hear him growl against your thigh, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I won’t.” You breathe, eyes screwing shut tightly as you clutch the pillow tightly to your chest. “Just Dama-rah-ahhh-”

Your last word was strangled by the movement of him swiping his tongue from your taint to the the small of your back. He comes up for air after a long minute and kisses your lips, much to your chagrin, as you wonder for a horrified second what filth could have been on them.

You taste, however, absolutely nothing. Which is about not what you expected.

“Let’s try something different.”

“Don’t we always? Do you remember last week when I mentioned to you about this list thing that I think we’re doing?”

He leans over onto the nightstand and fishes for a bottle of lube in the drawer. It made its way back in there somehow after it wound up on the little table beside the front door. Imagine that.

“Why don’t you roll over, lay on your stomach. And shush. You talk too much.”

You comply without much argument, still under the blankets. “You talk too much? You’ve always got something to say when we have sex.” He drags the sheets slowly off of you, and you gasp, feeling yourself exposed to the chilly night air.

“FUCK.”

 

This eloquent syllable comes from you. But it is because he’s given your ass a rousing slap that makes your whole body jump off the bed, mattress creaking, and you wince, tears springing to your eyes as you glare up at him over your shoulder. “…rude.”

“I couldn’t help it,” He groans, kneading your asscheeks with both hands. You wrap your arms around the pillow and push it under your head, sighing a little, a smirk on your face. “Your ass is just so fucking perfect and cute. It needed a spankin’, okay?”

“Fine,” You pant, hoisting your ass into the air for him. “Are you going to fuck me doggy style?”

“Sure am.”

“Great…”

His fingers are unpleasantly cold when they enter you, slick with lube. You let out your breath in a long, slow gasp, feeling his warmth behind you and his cock pressing against your thigh.

“That’s so cold,” You murmur, closing your eyes tight as he sinks his fingers deeper into you, working them in and out with his digits pointed as if shooting a gun. “But that feels… so amazing… oh, Cronus, that’s so good.”

Your voice tightens, he presses his fingertips into your hips with his free hand to keep balance before you’re empty again, and you let out a whine of protest. His cock comes next. Of course it does. You feel him hold your hips as he braces the head of his dick.

“Ready?”

“Do it.”

He starts to sink into you, and god, this angle. Your ass in the air, your arms stretched out in front of you as they grope miserably at the headboard. The angle seems to deepen you, he fills you so incredibly well that you can barely choke out words as he hilts.

“…oh my god,” You shut your eyes, you can feel him gently rotating his hips somewhat into you, adjusting to the tight compress you’ve put on his cock. “…oh man, Kanny. How’s it feel? Oh my god… I’m really deep in there, aren’t I?”

You choke out a couple of syllables. After a moment’s pause to gather your thoughts you manage to rasp, “God yes,” and he groans, slowly pulling out. You feel him do it slow, slower, and then stop just when his head threatens to slip out. You squeeze him, clenching yourself tight around the head of his dick and he keens weakly.

You feel him lean forward, and he reaches around you to grasp your cock, which is leaking steadily onto the bedsheets. He toys in the viscous precum, coating his hand in it casually.

“Cronus,” You murmur, voice tightening as he slides back in, “M-may I… make somewhat of a request?”

“Anything, babe.”

“Can you… maybe not finish inside me? Maybe just- if it’s not too much- just pull out right before-?”

“I’ll try. Promise not to get mad at me if I can’t?”

“Okaayy,” You feel him hilt again, and you’re struck by the dazed speechlessness of being so full of cock that you don’t know what to do with your brain. It’s a weird feeling, and you can only sputter weakly and let him squeeze and manipulate your cock. You’re throbbing hard in his hand, and, bracing your elbows weirdly on the pillow, you rub gently at your nipples to try and relieve a little bit of the wanton pressure building up inside you.

He leans down and kisses your shoulder. Bumping his hips a little bit, trying to fit the length he doesn’t have, and he whines when he realizes that he literally has no more cock to put in your ass. It’s a sad story.

He slides out and then back in. A rhythm begins, he’s ready to fuck. You arch your back like a stretching cat, he groans. You can hear the slap of skin-on-skin, it’s a dirty, erotic noise that makes you choke on your own breath, can feel his balls tap against you on the foreswing, and you feel truly dirty, don’t you? Like a little slut getting fucked by da- woah.

That very thought sends a shock of pure arousal up your limbs, you gasp and moan into the pillow. That’s bad, that’s dirty as hell, you remind yourself, feeling his uncoordinated grip on your cock slip somewhat. He’s getting too focused on fucking you and not focusing enough on jerking you off.

You buck into his hand as a reminder, he resumes the rigid movements as he talks into the night.

“You feel so fucking good right now oh my god I just wanna ruin your pretty little ass and fill you with my cum fuck Kankri nngh-”

Cronus’s dirty talking fetish seems to have rubbed off on you a little bit. Maybe it’s your desire to please him ultimately, but you find yourself whimpering into the pillow. “God yeah fuck me good fuck me real good baby I’m so wet give me all that fat cock let me have it good-”

You’re not sure if he can hear you, but you’re making an effort and that’s what truly matters, isn’t it?

You’re drooling against the pillow. Not sexy, you remind yourself, but at least he can’t see and you can flip the pillow over when you’re done. For now you’re content to bite it, pinching at your sensitive nipples as you fuck his hand relentlessly. You feel like a fucking woman, these noises you make are so pathetic and shivery.

Startled out of your reverie, as it were, by another stinging slap to your ass that makes you yelp and twitch, your eyes filling automatically with tears again as the pain settles away. The noise you’ve made, Cronus seems encouraged by it, and he drives himself onward with steady thrusts.

You’re leaking steadily into his hand, trembling, and you feel your orgasm tighten in your hips. “I’m gonna come,” You gasp at him, and he actually stops thrusting and concentrates on just jerking your cock while he’s balls-deep inside of you, and the lack of movement lets you just have a moment to focus on spilling onto the sheets, all over his hand, while you howl out in bliss into the pillow, glad for it’s muffling effect.

“I’m not done,” He reminds you, wiping his hand onto the sheets before taking your hips again and jerking you back into another heady stroke. You let out a pitiful noise, as the head of his dick bounces off of your prostate it makes your cock throb, oversensitive, and you can do very little other than just let him fuck you truly senseless. “Fuck yeah oh fuck Kankri here we go, gonna come-”

And, so suddenly it takes you by surprise, he pulls out of you and starts to deliriously jerk himself off. You hear the wet, squelching noises and then you feel it, hot spurts of cum across your back. Is there some in your hair? You fucking bet there is.

This, you decide, is better than being jizzed inside of. Easier clean up. On the other hand, you have to sit here in a puddle of your own cum, absolutely covered in his, and wait until he gets a tissue or something, anything, to clean you up with.

“Fucking- awesome. Good?” He questions weakly, moving gingerly off the bed and leaning off one side to fetch what turns out to be a roll of toilet paper. Like a gentleman he balls up a length and starts to dab you clean.

“Very good,” You affirm, panting heavily, still awkwardly flopped forward with your ass in the air. “Very good inde…” You trail off. Your phone’s ringing again.

“This is Kankri’s voicemail. I’m unable to take your call, so please leave a message after the tone.”

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH NOW SOMEBODY GET THE FUCK OVER HERE AND GET YOUR FUCKING FLAMINGOS OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL HAVE ALL OF YOUR GONADS.”


End file.
